Good neighbors, dear, be cautious, And covet no man’s pounds or pence. Ambition’s greedy maw shun, And tread the path of innocence! Dread crooked ways and cheating, And be not like those hounds of Hell, Like prowling wolves awaiting, Which once upon my footsteps fell.
An allalu mo wauleen, My little bag I treasured it;
Should you ever reach Dungarvan, That wretched hole of dole and sin, Be on your sharpest guard, man, Or the eyes out of your head they’ll pin. Since I left sweet Tipperary, They eased me of my cherished load, And left me light and airy, A poor dark man upon the road!